


The Fine Line

by negickapologist (neganstonguething)



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Gen, Mentions of Past Attempted Rape, Requests, dare i call this bonding?, introspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 21:38:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9923138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neganstonguething/pseuds/negickapologist
Summary: Sequel toThe Real Monsters, Requested by an anonymous user on Tumblr.Carl hops into one of the Saviors' trucks, intent upon killing Negan. Instead, he finds himself in Saviors Leader's direct presence. Negan decides to ask what triggered his breakdown outside of the RV.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was a request: "Hi! Can I request a sequel to “The Real Monsters”, set during Carl’s ‘visit’ to the Sanctuary? Like did Carl’s breakdown affect the way Negan views him in canon? Or perhaps instead of making him sing a song, he forces Carl to confess what set off his panic attack that night? (since Negan seemed to realize something didn’t quite add up there) I just love their twisted interaction, and apparently I love seeing Carl suffer too. :-/ Yes or no, you’re an awesome writer!" 
> 
> I was so excited to write this, because I got to incorporate a little bit of Negan's comic personality. His hatred for rape and rapists and how he handles all that is a huge part of why I love his character so much.
> 
> Thank you so much for this request! Hope y'all enjoy the sequel!

Carl Grimes is phenomenal at moving on. Right around the time he had to accept that his father was probably dead, he'd had to learn to be. Since then, it's been that, adjusting to his new life with the walkers around, having to kill a man he once called 'uncle', his own mother, and countless people beyond that. Carl's used to having to let go of the world around him. He's watched it crumble and picked up the pieces afterward so many times that it's just become a way of life at this point.

The night outside of the RV is one of those times, much like the memory it had brought up. He honestly feels like he's had to relive the incident from so long ago all over again, and the ache from the fear and panic and repulsion still lingers like a battle scar, but Carl doesn't have a choice. He has to move on. Maybe one day, he can be weak about it. But not for a very, very long time.

Upon returning to Alexandria, Michonne confronts him. She knows—somehow, she just _knows_ what caused him to break down out there. Rick is holding a meeting at the church, and Carl and Michonne are at the Grimes house, on the couch in the living room. She's not making him say anything—he's just _saying it_ , and then he's crying for the second time that day, and she's cradling him like he'd needed out there on the gravel.

Carl appreciates Michonne so much. She's seen him go through so much. She's gone through so much, herself. He trusts her as a friend, and even as a mother figure. He loves her. He confesses everything to her, and when he does, he feels lighter. He allows himself to be weaker around her—more so than his father, though he trusts Rick too. It's different, somehow. Carl can't place it, but it doesn't really matter. All that's important right now is that Michonne is here when he needs her.

Later, he confronts his father. Having missed a huge portion of Rick's meeting about Negan, he suggests they fight. Rick shuts him down. Of course, he does. And for once, Carl doesn't blame him for doing so. He still remembers his father sobbing on the ground right next to him as Negan demanded for him to cut his own son's arm off. He still sees the pain, the misery, the ' _oh god, please don't make me do this_ ' when he looks up at Rick even now. He sees a man who cares so deeply for his son that the only way Negan could break him was to threaten Carl, himself.

And Rick doesn't want to be pushed to that point again. He doesn't want Negan to actually _make_ him hurt or kill anyone. Carl gets that.

But he still can't let it slide.

Less than a week later, Negan and his goons show up. Nobody's ready. Supplies are running thin, but Negan doesn't seem to care. He reminds Carl of bill collectors on television commercials back when the end of the world hadn't been more than a thought in the back of people's minds—relentless and demanding things even when there are no things to be given. He's just as cocky and inconsiderate as before, and Carl finds that when Negan talks, his left arm stings right where the belt had been around it.

He spends his entire time there taunting and bullying his way through—making people go on a goose chase over one gun—and Carl, like his father, grits his teeth the entire time through. Even after threatening Negan, the guy hasn't gotten the picture. He's on a whole other level, here, and it's like he's untouchable. Soon enough, he's on his way.

Carl finds himself heading to the Hilltop community, and upon seeing the Saviors there, he hops aboard one of the supply trucks, a machine gun in hand, and rides to the Sanctuary. Jesus is there, but he clearly doesn't see exactly what Carl has planned. Either that, or he's trying to convince himself otherwise. Carl knows he's the only one with the balls to do this right now. Either that, or he's the only one stupid enough.

Regardless, he comes out, guns blazing, and finds himself face-to-face with Negan all over again. On his own turf, the man is even more calm than usual, and he greets Carl like a friend even after he kills some of the Saviors unloading the truck. He's led inside the Sanctuary, and toured about like some sort of parade float, before he's seated in Negan's room. It's a lavish room with a lot of gray, and Negan doesn't seem to mind Carl looking around it.

“Pretty sweet, isn't it?” Carl hates that deep voice. It vibrates all the way down into his bones, and that spot on his left arm burns every time he talks. Despite that, he turns his head to look back at the man in charge.

Carl doesn't say anything. If he's being honest, he's still trying to take the day's events in. His intention had been to kill Negan, but he had severely underestimated just how much backup the man had. It wasn't like he hadn't expected a small army, but the Sanctuary was actually _swarming_ with people. And Carl hadn't just seen people—he'd seen walkers. Walkers, and Daryl behind that fence, dealing with them. His chest burns with rage just thinking about it.

He tries not to acknowledge it. Somehow, he doesn't think that a man like Negan is going to care. A man who makes his people drop to their knees to regard his presence, a man who has more than his fair share of wives, a man who taunts even his closest subordinates...no, Negan isn't the type of guy to give a damn whether or not Carl's _family_ is out there dealing with the undead. He's probably got Daryl out there for some sick reason, anyway.

“Alright.” Negan breaks the silence again. He leans back onto a couch he's taken a seat at, and nods at the chair Carl's sitting in across from him. “Let's get started.”

“...With what?” Carl can't stifle his confusion. Seething hatred for Negan aside, he often can't predict what this guy is going to say or do. His question is actually pretty valid.

“I want to get to know you a little fucking better, Carl.”

Carl voices his thoughts as they arise. “Why?” The thing is, he puts on a brave face like his father would, but he's just as uncomfortable here as Rick would be. It isn't hard to let impulse direct his answers right now.

Negan opens up into this whole speech about how smart Carl is. How he, at his young age, when he should be doing something _teenagers_ do, decides to hop into the back of one of Negan's trucks. How he killed two of his men, and despite that, is well aware of the trouble he's in. But then he stops for a second. Looks defeated, releases a sigh.

“I can't do it.” He suddenly says, and Carl's stomach does this weird, hopeful flip. Almost as if he expects Negan to change his mind about everything he's done so far. As if 'I can't do it' is a sudden way of backing out of all the misery he's put the people of Alexandria through. Negan will never earn any forgiveness after having killed Glenn and Abraham, but if he's gonna back off...

Of course, Carl realizes all-too-quickly how childish of a hope that is when Negan keeps speaking. He motions with his hands to Carl's face, and Carl knows exactly what he's pointing to. “It's like talkin' to a birthday present. You gotta take that crap off your face—I want to see what Grandma got me.”

There's a sick level of excitement to Negan's voice—one that makes Carl shudder unpleasantly. It's the same delight that came after he'd killed Abraham. After he was making fun of the comment the redhead had made before he'd had his skull bashed in, like nobody cared that he'd just slaughtered one of their people. Carl feels nauseated.

“No.” He responds, voice defiant as he swallows the lump in his throat.

“Two men!” Negan lurches forward, eyes suddenly fierce in a way that makes Carl freeze. He's already forgotten just how little control he has over this situation. It's the best he can do to cautiously watch Negan as the man continues speaking. “Two. Men. Punishment.” Negan's voice drops to a threatening whisper. “Do you really want to piss me off?”

Carl concedes. What else is he supposed to do? Negan's angry underneath all that charisma, and he's letting it show now as he tries to get what he wants. There's no telling what this guy's capable of, and Carl isn't ready to die. His strength and resolve comes in deciding to just give the bastard his way, and he feels another wave of illness turn in his stomach as he reaches for the bandage around his head.

Carl allows himself a moment of immaturity—of selfishly wondering what else Negan is going to make him relive. As he unwraps the dressing, he can see himself and his father, Jessie and her family, all covered in walker blood, ambling along through the herd. He can hear the nervous sounds from the youngest Anderson, and Jessie desperately trying to silence him. The screams as the walkers catch on to the scene, the shock as the bullet goes right through his own eye. Rick's horrified face. Blackness.

He doesn't realize it, but his lip quivers as he pulls the last bits of the bandage away. Negan's chattering on with excitement about getting to see what's underneath, and when Carl brushes the hair out of his face, finally revealing the wound, Negan's exhilaration only swells up like a balloon.

He's going on about how hideous Carl's eye looks, practically mashing it into his face how permanent the wound is, and Carl can't take it anymore. His head dips, and for the second time, he cries in front of Negan. The voice telling him to be strong—one that sounds like his mother's—is getting quieter, giving way to the roaring of waves of emotion and frustration and outright bitterness that this is the way things are now.

The room falls silent suddenly, and Carl can't bring himself to look up. He doesn't know what to expect. Doesn't care anymore. It's not like he can keep up with Negan's violent rhythm anyway. But he can honestly say he was never prepared for an apology.

And that's exactly what he gets. Negan is _sorry_. He was just _messing around_. He forgets how _young_ Carl is, which the teen would have taken as a compliment at any other time, because he's prided himself on his ability to grow up and be part of the effort to make this world livable with his father. But right now, it's just annoying. Negan's digging in too deep, and Carl just wishes he would shut up for five fucking seconds.

“Just forget it.” He pleads, voice gravelly. He hears his father in himself for a moment, and then there's a knock on the door.

Carl's not really paying attention, but he sort of gets the gist of what's going on. Negan left the baseball bat he's so proud of outside, and he's pretty surprised that he managed to do so. He's teasing the guy who brought it back to him, and then he turns on Carl, compliments what's left of his eye after _insulting_ it a hundred times over, missing the point as fucking usual, and rounds back on his friend.

So it's probably pretty cool that Negan thinks Carl looks like a badass without the bandage over his eye. Thinks he's untouchable, and looks even more fearless than his resolve already makes him out to be. So what? The thing that Negan doesn't(and never will) understand is that Carl didn't ask for it. He remembers bragging about sharing a gunshot wound with his father as a kid, but battle scars aren't so great when they hinder both your appearance and your depth perception. He's got to do a lot more practicing to shoot again with one eye. He's terrified of being useless. It's always been his goal to be helpful.

And then there's Enid. Carl doesn't feel the overwhelming desire to be a hit with the ladies, but he doesn't exactly want to be a disappointment, either. Enid's not your typical girl—she's been out there and seen the world like he has, and she has her own little spark. She's the last person Carl would expect to look any differently at him with his bandage off. But still...there's an anxiety that lingers. He fears loneliness. Has, ever since he thought Rick was going to die in that house after the prison.

Why can't it ever be easy? Even just once?

Carl doesn't know what he expected upon being led into Negan's living quarters, but he can't say he'd been ready to be asked to sing a song. Negan's urged the man who brought his precious Lucille back out of the room, and now, he's asking Carl to sing to him. Anything. A song his mother might have sung to him. His mother...

Jesus.

Carl protests, but in the end—as usual—he's doing what Negan says. It's a shaky rendition of 'You Are My Sunshine', but apparently good enough for Negan. His throat hurts from the stress, and from singing, and from _crying_ , and he wishes Negan would either stop or just kill him already. Is this really worth the lives of two men, to break a teenager down in front of him?

As Carl sings, he remembers his mother's face. Her smile, her kind words. That sternness when he would want to go out and help his father, but Lori always saw it to be too dangerous. He remembers her face when she knew she was going to die giving birth to Judith. The determination and the trust in her eyes. He remembers hating to study, even after the end of the world. And he remembers, as he pulled the trigger, wishing he could study with his mother just one more time.

He jumps when Negan stands up and starts swinging Lucille around, but immediately keeps going when he's told to. It's amazing, how that bat just being brought back into the room can make things a hundred times more scary. He hates how strongly he is at Negan's mercy right now. Wishes he'd have tried to kill the guy before his friend brought Lucille back.

When he finishes, Negan rambles on about how his stupid baseball bat likes to hear people sing more than it—she, whatever—likes bashing people's heads in. Carl's face is streaked with fresh tears, and when Negan asks if his mother sang him the song, the room falls silent again.

“...Damn.” Negan realizes aloud. “She's dead, huh? Did you see when it happened?”

“I shot her.” Carl somehow manages. He wishes for the umpteenth time that Negan would shut up, but of course, he doesn't.

“Shit...no wonder you're a little serial killer in the making.”

Carl's thankful for the next silence. He needs a moment to regain his bearings—to adjust to the fact that he's essentially screwed himself over. He's always seen actions like the one that brought him to the Sanctuary as more 'taking charge' and 'helping out', but right now, he just wishes he hadn't been so reckless. He still has no idea what Negan has planned for him. _If_ Negan has anything planned for him, that is. Right now, it just feels like he's dicking around.

“Okay, so I gotta ask.” Negan sits back on the couch once more. He bounces Lucille on the ground for a moment, before he props her up next to him on one of the couch cushions. “This wouldn't by any chance have anything to do with your little fucking moment that morning outside of the RV, would it?”

Carl looks up at him. Even his injured eye strains painfully to widen at the question. In a very roundabout way, it does kind of have something to do with it. Carl's learning at breakneck speed that Negan has a tendency to draw a lot out of him. That memories he's been pushing away flow out like water through a broken dam for this guy, and it's the most uncomfortable thing he's felt in a long time. He feels helpless and weak, and how's he supposed to fight Negan when he can't get his brain to shut off for five seconds?

“What _was_ that, kid? You screamed bloody goddamn murder. As if I'd handed your old man a fucking bone saw and he was going to town with it or some shit.” Negan's pushing for a response, but Carl really doesn't care to say.

“I don't want to talk about it.” Carl tries. He immediately knows Negan isn't going to let it fly, though.

“You _can't_ not talk about it.” Negan growls. “That isn't the way this shit works. Look, if it makes you feel any better, picture me as your therapist.”

“That's not funny.” Carl manages a glare in his direction, but Negan just glares back.

“I'm not trying to be funny. _Talk_.”

Why can't Negan just leave well enough alone?

“Way before Alexandria, there was a prison.” Carl starts shakily. He finds it's easier to talk about when he isn't looking into Negan's half-lidded gaze. There's a seriousness to the air around them that somehow makes this easier, too. It's almost as if this guy actually gives a shit what he's about to make Carl say. “We all lived there. A lot of the people you saw the night you met us, we lived there. Got separated after someone attacked it, and for a while, it was just Dad, Michonne, and me.”

Carl spares a glance up at Negan, but immediately swallows and looks down as he continues. He doesn't sound any stronger than he did while he was singing, and he's cursing himself for it. This is not a good place to be looking so damned vulnerable, after all. “One night, we ran into this group of guys. Daryl was with them—didn't look happy to be, though. I can't remember why they attacked, but when they did, it was bad...One of them got Michonne, one took Daryl, one got my dad, and one got a hold of me.”

Carl's throat isn't just tight anymore—it feels frozen. He almost can't breathe. He wonders why again he's having to tell Negan this, but he goes on anyway.

“They were talking about what they were gonna do to us. One guy, the leader I guess, said he was going to kill everyone in front of my dad—talked about doing things to Michonne. It got really messy from there, and I couldn't focus on everything going on, but the guy who had me...”

Carl looks up just in time to see Negan's eyes widen in realization.

“He was smelling my hair and had me pinned to the ground. Tried to take off my pants...”

Negan covers his mouth with his fist and narrows his eyes. Carl sees something in that gaze—something that both makes him relax and unnerves him. There's anger there. Anger, pity, disgust, and maybe even a little fear for Carl's situation.

“How'd you get out of it?” Negan asks, voice muffled against his gloved knuckles.

“Dad killed the guy in charge.” Carl wipes tears from his good eye. “Bit right into his throat and tore a chunk out. He bled to death while they managed to overpower the other guys. Dad stabbed the one who had me at least a hundred times. He was so mad.”

“Can't say I fucking blame him.” Negan's hand is back in his lap now, and he lets out a sigh. “It gives me a lot of respect for Rick, y'know. And a _fuckton_ of respect for you, kid. Pardon my blunt observation here, but you've been through some real _shit_ , haven't you?”

Carl scowls, because Negan's not helping the situation any. He's just making Carl's list of shit even longer. “Yeah.”

Negan sighs. “Look, Carl. I'm sorry.” He actually sounds genuine, and Carl, for the first time since arriving at the Sanctuary, doesn't feel like he has to sit on the edge of his seat. “Doesn't mean much comin' from the guy who was ready to kill you out there on that night, used you as bait to break your own dad...but I wouldn't have done that shit to you if I'd have known what it was gonna bring back. Why'd you think of that time when I did that, anyway?”

“You put me on the ground.” Carl says, resolve a little stronger. “I didn't have any control, and it just...felt similar.”

“I'm no rapist, kid. Don't fucking put me on the same level as that guy.” Negan's voice is fierce, but Carl gets it. He also hates how much the word 'rapist' stings as it his his ears. “I might do some other terrible shit to you and your people, but I would _never_...”

“I know.” Carl's response surprises even himself. “I saw when you were listening to me. You weren't happy with my story, I get it. Clearly, we both aren't crazy about this subject, so can we change it, already?”

Negan's compliance is even more surprising. “...Yeah. In fact, get up. It should be ready.”

Carl furrows his brow. “...What should be ready?”

After seeing Negan look so angry just moments ago, it's a little surprising to see that grin back on his face. But it's there now, and he's on his feet, waiting for Carl to follow him.

“The iron.” Negan turns and heads toward the door.

Carl doesn't say it aloud, but he saw it. For the first time since this whole ordeal started, he's finally seen even just a tiny shred of humanity in Negan. It doesn't make him hate the guy any less, but at least he's not actually a monster.

Scary, how fine the line between the two is.

 


End file.
